The Lovely Lady
by HLY66
Summary: A mysterious girl claims to have no name, sing instead of speak, comes from the future, has multiple skills and has knowledge of many subjects including Salad Fingers himself. She comes to his aid and does the unexpected...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**** The inspiration of this story came from playing Scarborough Fair on the Magic Piano app. In this FanFiction, Salad Fingers' name will be shortened to SF. **_Text in Italics shows when SF is voicing other characters._** I ****DO NOT**** own Salad Fingers. David Firth is the original creator.**

* * *

Yet again, Roger had terrified SF with the distorted screeches and demonic sounding voices from an unpleasant broadcast he had just tuned into. It was a shame that he couldn't listen to more of the Great War. SF quickly made his way to the Safety Cupboard along with Marjory Stewart-Baxter.

Hubert Cumberdale and Jeremy Fisher were fast asleep in bed at this time so SF decided to leave them to catch their beauty sleep. Hopefully, they should wake up just in time for Croxley at Breakfast.

SF remembered that he forgot to add more sustenance to Roger earlier that day, but he chose to shrug it off. He hadn't spoken to Marjory for a while so he chose this time to start a conversation.

"So, Marjory, h-h-how have you been lately?"

Silence filled the claustrophobic space of the Safety Cupboard, only Roger's muffled devilish screams can be heard from the other side of the sliding door.

"_I-I-I am feeling grand today." Marjory replied._

"Shall we see how Penny Pigtails is doing?"

Silence was SF's answer again.

He walked his hand along the small ledge, pretending to be Penny Pigtails singing merrily down the path.

"Are you off to the market again, P-P-Penny Pigtails?"

"_Yes, I'm going to go buy a nice blackberry crumble."_

"_Bog off, you little mare!" said the market trader. "And take those cotton legs of yours with you!"_

Immediately after the market trader insulted Miss Pigtails for the second time, SF broke down in tears as if the abuse was directed at him, maybe feeling sorry for the innocent young lady in his mind. Marjory lay on the ground, forgotten. If she wasn't a finger puppet, she would have comforted SF and wiped his tears away. If she spoke to him with sympathetic words, he would become scared of her just like his encounter with Mable when she spoke about the crow stealing his spoon.

After a solid ten minutes of weeping, Roger suddenly fell silent. SF gasped at the surprise.

"I-I-I think Roger has finally ended that broadcast for good." he assumed.

But what he didn't know was that someone had let themselves into his home...


	2. Chapter 2

**In the year 20XX**

* * *

A girl, who was born in **19XX**, was known as a child genius across the globe. She had knowledge of many subjects from medical related issues to politics shown on our televisions today. Her skills were putting experts such as scientists, mathematicians and technicians to shame. During the years of her fame, most people grew envious of her many talents. They wished that their talents would be great enough to make them walk away with a ton of cash. They would break an arm and a leg to be exactly like this girl.

She was around five foot six, shoe size seven. Her short black hair with white highlights was tied in two high ponytails. Her favourite Steampunk goggles with the left eye in the shape of a camera lens were always kept on until she retired for the night, her brown eyes hidden from the world. Her casual wear consisted of a long black Ramones shirt, black leather fingerless gloves, black nail polish and dark grey jeans with braces hanging from the sides. Her shoe wear included black Converse with white stainless laces.

The girl wanted her personal life to remain unknown to everyone else.

Because of this, no one knew her full name. Neither did she, why? Because she taught herself to forget it, she wanted to change her identity. The public gave her the nickname Lottie, although she didn't think the name suited her.

No one knew her age or birthday, they all assumed she was somewhere in her teens.

No one knew where or who her parents are, was she brought up in an orphanage?

No one knows how she quickly developed all these skills during her isolation.

They never saw her in public, they only saw her on the television to collect her many rewards.

They never heard her speak; people believed she had a case of Mutism.

The only emotions she showed were happy or sad, never angry or distressed in any way. If she was happy, she would beam a small innocent smile. If she was sad, the same grin would turn upside down into a frown.

One day, alone in the dimly lit cottage, the girl began reading about a certain fellow who was known to nearly everybody who explored the internet. She once heard about this character whilst listening to an audio clip of a group of friends talking about 'him'. Curiosity got the better of her as she began her research.

He was feared, loved and hated by many people, all because of his mannerisms and strange behaviour. His appearance as well as his trademark deformed hands haunted those who dared to see an image of him whilst in a room surrounded in darkness. It is said that a British gentleman, David Firth, had created this character. He named him Salad Fingers, the name idea chosen when Firth's friend once quoted that he had 'salad fingers' whilst strumming away on his guitar. The girl took this as nonsense but a part of her wanted to believe it was all fiction. She believed that this 'animation' was created to mock SF.

Enough was enough; she was going to help this character. The girl didn't care if people were to call her crazy or just plain delusional.

She packed many supplies with her. Medical kits, food, water, second hand clothes stolen from the charity bin and many others that can fill a household fit for a family of four. She also bought some DIY tools for future reference.

Her unannounced prototype time machine may be impossible but it was worth a try. The space inside was the same as two garden sheds put together. So every box, crate and suitcase managed to fit in every corner.

She dialled in a series of numbers including her destination, the year **XXXX**. Location: **[REDACTED]**.

* * *

In a blink of an eye, she had arrived. The girl remembered that a small dizzy spell was one of the side effects of time travel. She opened the door of the time machine.

The weather was overcast.

The ground was dry and lacking grass or mud.

She was in the middle of nowhere, that's what she thought until she saw the house, the house that she saw in the 'animation'.

She stepped out and observed her unannounced successful time machine. It had camouflaged itself to make it look like a small wooden shed. She looked back at the house again and began to walk towards it. The girl hoped she wouldn't be spotted by any deformed beings that she read about. For the first time, she felt worried. Worried yet felt sorry for them for having a lack of self maintenance.

As she approached the door, she can immediately smell the ammonia wafting from the cracks in the windows. Thankfully, the girl came fully prepared. She put her goggles atop her head and slid on the clear oxygen mask which stretched across the bottom half of her face, along with a tank strapped to her back. She hoped that her current appearance would not frighten SF.

Although feeling guilty for not knocking first, she opened the door. The moment she stepped into what appeared to be the living room, devilish screams emitted from a hollowed out radio filled with small pebbles... sustenance.

She began to tear up when she heard weeping, she couldn't find its location, but she knew it was definitely **him**. Her heart strings were being tugged each time SF took a breath before continuing to weep.

With silent footsteps, she switched the radio off. Silence filled the isolated cottage. A surprised gasp broke it immediately.

"I-I-I think Roger has finally ended that broadcast for good."


	3. Chapter 3

The girl's heart pounded in her chest. What to do now? For the first time, she felt fear. Fearing that her intrusion would provoke SF to attack, fearing what he would say when he saw her, fearing what he will do next.

She slowly began to back away towards the door. Her heart skipped a beat when she stopped on a loose floorboard. The creak was loud enough to echo through the whole house, loud enough to wake up Hubert Cumberdale and Jeremy Fisher who remained still on the bedroom floor, loud enough to alert SF of her presence.

"It looks like someone has dropped by to say h-h-hello, Marjory." said SF, staring into the finger puppet's unblinking eyes.

The girl spotted a sliding door from the other end of the room move a few inches to the left (to the right in SF's perspective). Marjory Stewart-Baxter on SF's index finger emerged from the Safety Cupboard and scanned the room. After ten seconds, she was pulled back in. The door remained open.

"W-W-Who's at the door, Marjory?" SF asked. Silence was his answer.

"Who?" he asked again.

The Safety Cupboard door slid a few inches more so that it was wide enough for SF to emerge from his hiding spot.

The girl's heart raced at a hundred miles per hour at the sight of him. He looked exactly the same as he did in her research.

She waited for him to scowl at her, but instead when he saw her, his look of concern turned into an innocent little grin, both unnerving and kind at the same time.

"Oh, hello." He said happily, as if greeting a long term friend. "Y-Y-You came just in time f-f-for a spot of tea."

For a moment, the girl thought that her heart had stopped for a full minute as SF began to walk towards her, leaving Marjory Stewart-Baxter in the Safety Cupboard. Each step he took, she can faintly smell putrid sweat and body odour coming from him.

She was right all along, he really did need help. His mind and mental state had turned numb, his current living conditions would make a healthy human drop dead in a matter of hours, his deformed hands made him stand out like a sore thumb with a large splinter stuck in it.

"I-I-It's been a while since I had guests." he said, reaching out and poking the girl's forehead with one of his fingers.

"H-H-Have you got a name?"

The girl sighed, looked down at her feet and shook her head slowly. What she didn't witness was SF's sudden look of surprise. His grin morphed into a flat line when the girl answered.

"I think you're called...erm... Wendy..."

Now it was the girl's turn to look surprised. She looked back up at SF whose smile had returned. She quite liked the name 'Wendy'. In fact, it was better than 'Lottie'.

"Yes, that's right," said SF. "W-W-Wendy... Crawford."

Wendy's beam grew so wide that the edges of her lips almost peeked out of her oxygen mask.

Wendy Crawford.

Wendy Crawford was her name.

It was perfect.

**[TO BE CONTINUED]**


End file.
